The Moments of Agony
by Sappez
Summary: We all know that moment in our life when we have screwed up so badly that there's no way of fixing it. The moment when we realize the mistake and are too scared to even breathe because we don't know what to do next. Well, I don't need to breathe, but this is that moment. The Seeing Red scene in Spike's POV with a twist that Spike did overpower Buffy in the bathroom.


**A/N** So this is my take in what would have happened if Buffy Was just little bit weaker than she was in Seeing Red and wasn't able to kick Spike off of her. This one shot isn't meant to bash any characters and I tried to avoid making OOC.

**Trigger warning **Rape

**Disclaimer **Unfortunately I do not own any of these characters :(

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The Moments of Agony

We all are deeply flawed creatures. We make these shitty choices and we don't even realize it until it's too late. Don't I know? I think I'm more flawed than others of my kind, too caring for a vampire and too selfish and passionate to be a man. I guess there's something broken inside of me, some kind of casting defect. What else could explain the situation I'm currently in? On top of the woman whom I love but who just can't admit her own feelings. On top of Buffy. I know she loves me, she must. I saw the hurt in her face when she looked at Anya and me, there must be something, mustn't there? I just have to make her feel it, the way she felt when we fucked. Back then she was so raw, so vibrant and so passionate.

She's pleading me to stop, but I know her, she'll melt like she always does. She just doesn't understand herself, but I do. That's why I grab her bathrobe and turn her around simultaneously. She shrieks out a sharp "no", but I know she's just playing hard to get. I push her down with my left arm on top of her now bare shoulders. I see her face turn into grimace and she hisses through her teeth, her left cheek firmly against the bathroom tile while I roughly hold her down. Buffy likes it rough, I'm not too worried. I let my right hand feel the skin of her breast and flat stomach while I rapidly roam it towards my own buckle. I quickly open the zipper of my tight jeans and sigh out of relief when my throbbing member is finally out. Buffy tries to turn her lower body to face me, but I push her harder with my left arm and quickly get a hold of her hips with my right one. She lets out a desperate sob but my mind is too heavily on the task in hand to notice

The moment the tip of my cock penetrates her, I want to abort my mission but my body is already committed to the movement and the screaming inside of my head cannot stop it anymore. My thrust isn't welcomed by warm and slicky heaven I'm so accustomed to. Instead, I feel my penis scratch through her dry walls all my length. She's so tight and dry and she feels so wrong, not in the right way at all. We all know that moment of our life when we have fucked up so badly that there's no way of fixing it. The moment when we realize the mistake and are too scared to even breathe because we don't know what to do next anymore. Well, I don't need to breathe, but this is that moment. I feel like time has stopped and at the same time, seconds run faster that light. I feel my whole body to vibrate from the anxiousness that is creeping to every single cell of mine. I don't know what to do, I really don't. I can sense everything around me so clearly that it's painful and yet I'm too numb to even feel my own body.

Buffy just lays still in this moment that feels like forever. She doesn't even try to fight me anymore, so I have to make all the choices from now on. Choices that I stole from her to make with her own free will. Should I pull out fast or slow? Which one would hurt her less or does the physical pain even matter at this point? I end up pulling my flaccid cock quickly out of her, kind of like a bandit, though this time nothing has healed her. She lets out pain filled sigh and it clenches my unbeating heart so grievously that I feel like fainting. I loosen my hold on her but she just lies flat on the tile. I sit on my knees and ponder what to do next. Should I apologize? Sorry won't cut this time and frankly, I don't think that any of my words would make her feel better. I sit still and listen her labored breath and quick heartbeat, wondering what should I do next. I just wish we were in my crypt and Buffy would just get up, beat me, maybe even stake me and leave. But now we are in her bathroom and that girl laying in front of me isn't the mighty slayer I know. She's just like any ordinary twenty-one years old girl who's been shattered on her own bathroom floor.

Suddenly I feel sick looking at her, looking at what I have done. With shaky hands I try to fix her rope so I wouldn't have to see the body I violated so, but the second I touch her, she flinches so harshly that I withdraw my hands back in speed of light. Now she's lying slightly on her left side, gazing into emptiness and I'm sitting still as a statue, too afraid to even blink. I cannot simply get up and leave, I cannot apologize and I cannot help her in anyway. I'm so powerless. I feel like explaining myself and I do open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Oh please Slayer, just get up and kill me, free me from this misery. The sickness sweeps through me and I really feel like throwing up now. My whole stomach is turning, twisting and burning. I have to move farther from the tiny blond. I do, but clumsily, with my numb feet slipping on the tile while I try to squirm deeper in the room to hide. I notice that my fly is still open so I bring my shaking, sweaty hands to try to close it, to hide me and my shameful actions.

All this movement seems to wake the fragile creature from her trance. She starts to sit up and cover herself as much as that small piece of fabric at the moment is able to. I don't want to look at her, but I cannot tear my eyes away. She backs against the bathtub, to make her feel safer I guess, and then she looks at me. I think pierces through my essence with her stare is more accurate way to put it, though. She stays quiet and keeps the eye contact. Her gaze is haunting me. She doesn't look angry or accusing, there's just sorrow and agony. The bile rises to my throat and I need to swallow it back down. There's bruising on her left cheek and tears have scraped their way down to her throat. I feel my own tear fight its way down to my cheek but I can't find the power to lift my arm to wipe it off. The salt burns my eyes and I have to close them. I keep them closed for few beats but when I slowly open them, the intense stare is still there. I feel new wave of nervousness to hit me. I just have to say something, but the words barely stumble their way out at all and I can't make more than stuttering words of "I" and "Buffy", so I close my mouth again.

We sit on the other ends of the bathroom for quite some time, until I finally feel my legs enough to stand on them. So I start to get up. Buffy's eyes wides, her breath hitches and all her muscles tense in alarm that my new position causes her. I move slowly towards her and the door, until I'm in front of her. I stand still a moment and we just stare at each other. Then I reach my hand towards her cheek and I try: "Buffy, I'm so sor-"

"Please don't, just- just go", she interrupts me and jerks her face to the side so I wouldn't touch it. I withdraw my hand and look at her quietly, although she isn't staring at me anymore but is instead currently gazing at the tiles of her floor. She's giving me an easy way out, well at least as easy as it can be at this point anymore. I hesitate, but I take it. I open the door gently and stop for a second. I throw a one last glance at her and wait a moment. I'm not sure why, I guess for her to look at me with determination and tell me how she will kill me or something. But nothing comes, she doesn't lift her gaze or open her mouth so I do the only thing that I'm currently capable of and leave.

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**A/N **I hope you enjoyed reading this, please leave a comment! :)


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